


Even Monsters Deserve Hope

by Scribomaniac



Series: Broken Bridges [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Kindred Spirits, Past Torture, Reunions, Romance, hinted romance - Freeform, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 19:46:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8858404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribomaniac/pseuds/Scribomaniac
Summary: Rey didn't regret it.  She couldn't.  Hope had kept her alive all those years on Jakku.  It kept her spirit strong when even her body failed her on the desert planet. How could she deny someone that?  How could she deny someone their hope? Even if that someone was Kylo Ren.
“You tortured me!”  She bellowed back, tears of anger and sadness filming her vision.  “You tried to destroy my mind—why should I believe you?”
“I was trying to help you!”  He implored.  “I tried to unlock your memories!  If you had just let me in—”
“Liar!”





	

It was as easy as falling asleep sometimes, Rey thought as she took in her new austere surroundings. Meditating, reaching that higher plane Master Skywalker taught her about. Sometimes reaching it was as easy as falling asleep. Or as difficult. Sometimes taking hours to fall under its lulling spell. This time, though, this time it was easy. If Rey were thinking straight, she'd have wondered if perhaps nirvana has been _too_ easy to reach this time around. She wasn't thinking straight, though. No, her thoughts were scattered and wandering all over the place. Master Skywalker— _the_ _Luke Skywalker_ —was her father. Or, at least, the closest thing she'd ever had. She couldn't believe it, even now, even after the roaring fight they'd just had after she confronted him about it. He'd begged her to forgive him, pleaded with her to do so. And she'd left under a cloud of anger for the Millennium Falcon.

She'd tried to sleep it off, sleep off the anger and pain and pure frustration building in her chest, but oblivion would not come for her. Not while she was so hot headed. So she meditated, and now she was here. Wherever _here_ was. She looked around, but found nothing detailed enough to let her know where the Force had taken her mind. The walls were slate gray, metallic, so she was probably on a ship. There was a small bed tucked away in the corner of the room. It was meticulously made. No crease or wrinkle in the blanket or the single pillow. The word militaristic flashed through her head. On the other side of the room stood a book case filled to the brim with book and scrolls and maps in all different sorts of languages and from all across the galaxy.

She was flipping through a stack of maps—all detailing planets with desert regions—when she heard the door slide open behind her. Something snagged in her belly, something frail and thread like, frantically pulling at her and telling her to turn around. Frowning, Rey obeyed her instinct and came face to face with a man whose hair was as black as his robes, whose face, though normally so pale and cold, was flushed with a mixture of panic and excitement, whose eyes shined brighter as he took her in than any sun in the universe. “Rey,” he exhaled shakily.

“Ben,” she found herself whispering. A sharp pain shot into her brain, a lingering after effect of the mental block Luke had placed in her mind, and with it an added reminder of everything the person in front of her had done.

“Rey,” his lips stretched into a tentative, awkward looking smile. It was almost as if his muscles forgot how to form one. He began to shake. Shake so much that for a moment Rey worried his atoms would shake apart and scatter into nothingness, but then he took a steady step forward, hand reaching out to caress her face, “Rey, you remember . . .”

She took a step back.

“Rey,” he whispered her name again, almost like a prayer. His hand remained outstretched, frozen mid-air. “Rey, you remember. You remember me, don't you?” His eyes, so dark and yet so bright at the same time, begged her to say yes. Standing tall, Rey jerked her head yes. Yes, she did remember him. She remembered _everything_. There was no use lying to him about that. Releasing a strangled sob, Kylo Ren closed his eyes and trembled some more. When he opened his eyes again, he took another step towards her.

And again she backed away.

“You,” she breathed out, her face twisting into something fierce. Something more terrifying than any Rathtar. Flames of pure, justified anger burned within her veins, burning her from the inside out. She was surprised she hadn't self combusted from the heat of it. “You _rutting bastard_!” She yelled, lunging at him with her hands outstretched, her nails ready to scratch, to maim, to dig into his eye sockets and _tear_ —

She passed right through him.

Spinning on her heel, Rey stared at him wide eyed, her shock overcoming her anger—temporarily, at least. “What—?”

“You're not,” Kylo Ren began, almost brokenly now, “you're not really here. So we can't—you can't touch me.” His shoulders curved inward, as if the thought had just occurred to him as well. The brightness in his eyes flickered, threatening to go out.

Snorting, Rey made a vulgar gesture and said, “Count your blessings.” Closing her eyes, she began counting backwards in her head from one hundred, trying to pull her mind away from this place and back to her body on Ahch-To.

“No!” Kylo Ren screamed, red blotches marring his face. A thread—the thread she'd felt earlier within her belly, the one that had been so frail before and now seemed so strong, yanked her mind back into place like a snap of a whip. “You're not going anywhere!” He barred his teeth at her, his true face coming to light.

Yanking on her end of their psychic link—hard—she snarled right back and stepped up to growl into his face, “You couldn't keep me prisoner before, you think this time will be any different, Kylo Ren?”

All color seeped from his face. His muscles slackened and that light behind his eyes once again flickered as he whispered, “I can explain.”

Another sharp pain to her brain. Luke had said the exact same thing to her earlier in the day after she'd confronted him. _I can explain_. Rey snorted harshly. Sure, they could explain . . . after being backed into a corner. “I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear another lie come out of your damned mouth. You're a monster,” her voice trailed off to a deadly whisper. “You killed hundreds of innocent people, tortured thousands—and for what?”

“For you,” he immediately said, his voice as low as hers. “It was all for you.” His eyes peered into hers. Beseeching her to _believe_ him, to _forgive_ him.

Her body turned white hot with rage, “For me?” She scoffed. “What do you mean for me? I never asked for this. I never asked for _any_ of this! I didn't ask you to torture, to kill,” she paused, taking in a deep breath. “How many have you killed, Kylo Ren?” She hissed, “Do you even know? Or did you stop keeping track? It wouldn't be surprising. Why should anyone be surprised, really,” she taunted as she squared her feet before him, set back her shoulders and barred her teeth again. His breathing halted, his muscles locked into place as he awaited her next few words. “Considering you killed your own _father_.”

He reeled back as if she'd struck him. He turned away and hid his face in his hands—an act of shame or an attempt to regain control of himself, Rey wasn't sure. His body was shaking again, but not from relief, or happiness, or _whatever_ he'd been feeling earlier. This time his body shook from barely contained rage. “You _stabbed_ your family in the back! You _mutilated_ Finn! You _slaughtered_ those children at the Academy—”

“I did what I had to!” Kylo Ren screamed, his face twisting into something dark, something primal and cruel as he turned back to Rey. If they'd physically been in the same room together, his spittle would have landed on her face.

“You _tortured_ me!” She bellowed back, tears of anger and sadness filming her vision. “You tried to destroy my mind—why should I believe you?”

“I was trying to _help_ you!” He implored. “I tried to unlock your memories! If you had just _let me in—_ ”

“ _Liar_!” Her voice cracked as she yelled and curled her hands into tight fists. She could feel the bite of her nails digging into the flesh of her palms, but didn't care. Her body shook with rage, her muscles wound up tightly, wanting to lunge, to attack. To hurt him as he'd hurt her. “You were trying to get the map! That's all you cared about—” she choked on a sob and was horrified to find tears running down her face and nose, but didn't stop her verbal attack, “—your stupid vengeance. What'd he ever do to—”

“ _He took you away from me!_ ” He roared, cutting her off. His face had turned completely red and the cords in his neck strained against his skin as he tried to make her understand. He was crying, too, she realized as she took in an unsteady breath.

Silence rang throughout the room as Rey and Kylo Ren stared at each other and tried to regain their breaths, both retreating to separate corners in the room. “What?” Rey whispered, shaking her head and she processed his words.

“Luke,” Kylo Ren swallowed thickly, then released an uneven breath before averting his gaze and staring up at his ceiling. “Luke,” he began again, “feared us. He feared what we'd become together. So he took you. _He stole you_. Everything that you were—it was like you had _died_ , Rey. I couldn't find you, couldn't feel you—I didn't know what to do.” He dropped his head and returned his gaze to hers. What Rey found in his eyes wrecked her. He looked so broken. So lost. So much like that thirteen year old boy she'd found her very first day at the Academy. The link between them tugged at her.

She took a step forward.

That light in his eyes, the one that had all but died out during their fight, roared to life as he watched her approach. This time he knew better, this time he didn't reach out to her, or try to pull on their psychic link. This time he stood perfectly still, his chest barely even rising with the intake of his breath for fear of scaring her off, as he waited for her to come to him. Not for the first time during this encounter did Rey wish she could touch him. This time, though, it was not to hit or to maim, but to reach out and feel him. To feel that this person in front of her was real and human. To make certain that the young, wonderful boy she had known as a child was still inside of him somewhere.

She reached out a hand, slowly and with a slight tremor, and reached out to stroke his cheek, but quickly remembered herself and pulled back. His eyes clamped shut as he waited for the touch that would never come. “Rey,” he whispered. It was such a broken sound. It's edges cutting every inch of her soul. “Please.” He opened his eyes.

She took a step back.

Kylo Ren's brows furrowed as he watched her continue to back away from him. She cradled her hand—the one that'd almost touched him—to her chest and slowly shook her head. Rey's mind felt like it might split open from all the memories and thoughts whirling through her mind. Old memories of her and Ben playing together in forests and streams, training together in the Academy, laughing around food while surrounded by friends and family—all that clashed with the man she saw before her. Not Ben Solo, but Kylo Ren. A man who almost killed Finn, her most precious friend. A man who killed Han Solo—his own _father_ and someone who she almost considered the same. A man who'd slaughtered hundreds without second thought and would most likely continue to do so under the banner of the First Order. For her, he claimed. All for her. How many more lives would he destroy in her name, she wondered.

“I can't forgive you,” she said with a steady voice. Her eyes began to blur again, but she stayed strong. “I cannot forgive you, Kylo Ren.” The room around her began to fade, her backwards countdown almost complete. She saw comprehension and horror dawn on his face, felt the tug on their link and pushed it away. His head dropped in desolate resignation. He knew he couldn't force her to stay. She was almost gone now. She could feel her hands, her toes, her lungs as she took in deep, even breaths.

“But,” she continued, watching as his head snapped up and their eyes met. Though her vision began to fade, her voice stayed strong, “Ben Solo . . . I might be able to forgive him.”

She blinked and found herself back on the Millennium Falcon. Rolling her neck, trying to ease the knots, she thought about what she had just done. She thought about what Luke would do if he knew. Maybe he'd try to lock her mind away again, maybe not. But, she decided as she looked up to the ceiling, she'd given Ben Solo hope, and no one should be denied that.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! I wanted to give this fic it's own stand alone story because I thought it was being smothered by the other chapters in Dreaming of a Lost Memory. I'm really proud of this fic and so I'd really appreciate any comments or kudos! I don't know if I'll continue it. Maybe one day, but as of right now I have no plans. 
> 
> As always, I'm willing to take prompt requests so long as it's safe for work!


End file.
